never
understood before, but I understand now. Just this caring means so
much."

She stood close to his side. Her manner at the same time seemed to
depress him and yet to fill him with hope.

"What is your name?" she enquired.

"Richard Lane," he told her. "I am an American."

"Then, Mr. Richard Lane," she continued softly, "I shall always think of
you and think of to-night and think of what you have said, and perhaps I
shall be a little sorry that what you have asked me cannot be."

"Cannot?" he muttered.

She shook her head almost sadly.

"Some day," she went on, "as soon as our stay in Monte Carlo is
finished, if you like, I will write and tell you the real reason, in
case you do not find it out before."

He was silent, looking downwards to where the gathering wind was driving
the clouds before it, to where the lights grew clearer and clearer at
every moment.

"Does it matter," he asked abruptly, "that I am rich--very rich?"

"It does not matter at all," she answered.

"Doesn't it matter," he demanded, turning suddenly upon her and speaking
with a new passion, almost a passion of resentment, "doesn't it matter
that without you life doesn't exist for me any longer? Doesn't it matter
that a man has given you his whole heart, however slight a thing it may
seem to you? What am I to do if you send me away? There isn't anything
left in life."

"There is what you have always found in it," she reminded him.

"There isn't," he replied fiercely. "That's just what there isn't. I
should go back to a world that was like a dead city."

He suddenly felt her hand upon his.

"Dear Mr. Lane," she begged, "wait for a little time before you nurse
these sad thoughts, and when you know how impossible what you ask is, it
will seem easier. But if you really care to hear something, if it would
really please you sometimes to think of it when you are alone and you
remember this little foolishness of yours, let me tell you, if I may,
that I am sorry--I am very sorry."

His hand was suddenly pressed, and then, before he could stop her, she
had glided away. He moved a step to follow her and almost at once he was
surrounded. Lady Hunterleys patted him on the shoulder.

"Really," she exclaimed, "you and Henry were our salvation. I haven't
felt so thrilled for ages. I only wish," she added, dropping her voice a
little, "that it might bring you the luck you deserve."

He answered vaguely. She turned back to Hunterleys. She was